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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157922">Powerfully Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainyscribbs/pseuds/Rainyscribbs'>Rainyscribbs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Loneliness, Mostly introspection, crossed with a character study, petra needs hugs and support, pre-season 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:53:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainyscribbs/pseuds/Rainyscribbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She was Petra, she was rock, she didn't succumb to stupid stuff like disappointment or self-pity or...or so she liked to tell herself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Powerfully Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even if it hadn't been mercifully clear and bright outside, the sky a dazzling shade of blue with only wispy streaks of cloud to be seen, Petra really wouldn't have cared much about the long walk back from another one of what she called her errands, for lack of a better word. It gave her time to relish the wind biting at her cheeks, the feeling of the rugged ground underneath her feet, the way the now almost ever-present weight in her chest seemed to have shifted a little.</p>
<p>It gave her time to <em>think</em>.</p>
<p>It wasn't like there was anybody around (there hardly ever seemed to be, these days). With that in mind, Petra allowed her shoulders to lower, almost droop, as she started to absent-mindedly kick a rock along in front of her.</p>
<p>She'd actually overheard herself being compared to rock by various people over the years. Sharp, sturdy, unshakeable and all that stuff. Hell, even her <em>name</em> meant 'rock', or so Ivor had informed her (where he picked up all this useless info, she'd long since stopped asking; the result was usually a vague answer at best and a convoluted ramble of an explanation at worst). And that was only appropriate, right? She was <em>Petra</em>, she was <em>rock</em>, she didn't succumb to stupid stuff like disappointment or self-pity or...</p>
<p>Or so she liked to tell herself.</p>
<p>And just like that, that weight settled back into place.</p>
<p>Petra kicked the jagged little stone with a <em>little</em> more force than necessary before turning her gaze skyward. It had to be nearing sunset by now, probably. How long had she been gone? Was Jesse getting worried? Would Olivia be sneaking anxious glances at the intricate clock she'd set up in her little redstone lab? Maybe Lukas was pacing up and down and Axel was tapping his fingers together with nervous energy and Ivor was muttering something about 'going out to find that fool myself if she doesn't turn up soon'...</p>
<p>She shook herself, a small scowl crossing her face. <em>It's not like that anymore</em>, she reminded herself. It wouldn't exactly be an exaggeration to say it was for the hundredth time, either. <em>Axel and Olivia have their own cities to run, their own lives to lead. Lukas is neck-deep in books in that nice, safe little house of his 24/7. Ivor hasn't even been around in months and Jesse...Jesse doesn't have time to fret about</em> you <em>anymore. They all have better things to do now.</em></p>
<p>Petra blinked, realising that she'd come to a dead stop and had been staring ahead with a vacancy that might have caused any passers-by to fetch a doctor. Or a psychiatrist. She quickly raised her chin, striding along with her battered pickaxe resting on her shoulder <em>(she was Petra, she was tough, she was rock)</em> even as her mind veered off again.</p>
<p><em>Better things to do</em>...the past few months had proved that much, hadn't they? All of her attempts at inviting the others along on her errands, pointing out areas they hadn't yet explored and treasures that hadn't yet been found and the possibility of entire places that hadn't yet been discovered, silently imploring just one of them (imploring? Since when did she 'implore'?) to pass the time of day with her...they'd all been met with vague variations of "I can't, not right now"s and "have fun"s and "I'm sorry, another time, okay?"s</p>
<p>Another time. When would that be? Not anytime soon, Petra realised, with a pathetic mixture of frustration and dread. Because more often than not, she found that she was the one making all the effort lately. The cold hard fact was: they couldn't be missing her nearly as much as she missed them.</p>
<p>Her stomach (which had been occupying itself with whining none-too-quietly at her for the past half an hour) suddenly tightened at that thought and her chest felt weirdly empty, like her heart had just plummeted down into her gut.</p>
<p>She knew, in her heart of hearts, that maybe she wasn't being totally fair. It wasn't the others' fault that they'd had new burdens and responsibilities dropped onto them; it had just been their luck since the beginning. It made sense that they couldn't just drop everything when she asked them to hang out with her. It made sense that their old friend Petra was becoming of less and less use to them.</p>
<p>Petra didn't spot the gates to Beacontown until she nearly walked face-first into them. <em>Stupid</em>. She let out an inaudible sigh, forcing her face back into a mask of neutrality. If Jesse was there, they'd be making some sweet, chirpy comment about how they still couldn't believe how cool the town was or how well they'd all done on their trip. If Olivia or Lukas were there, they'd lament the lack of security on the gates and mumble something about programming or building some sort of system. If Axel was there, he'd be shoving the gates open with a grin in place, ready to bask in the admiration of the townspeople.</p>
<p>They <em>should</em> have been there. All of them. Their inventories should've been crammed with weapons and tools and maps and whatever new thingamajigs they'd hit upon, ready to place in the Treasure Room. They should have all arrived at the gates together, tired but contented, trading quips and light-hearted boasts, laughing like dorks.</p>
<p>Instead, Petra walked in by herself, face set, not meeting the eyes of anyone she passed.</p>
<p><em>Resilient</em>, they called her. <em>Proud. Stoical. Rock.</em> Petra suspected that it was at least somewhat true.</p>
<p>But she also suspected that she'd just about crumble if it really was all over.</p>
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